


there's no 'i' in 'team', but there's 'tea' and i make... a really good one?

by atitforatat



Series: the lover series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Insecurity, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley-centric, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atitforatat/pseuds/atitforatat
Summary: Ron always tells what his friends and family need to hear, but he never did it to himself.He also never chose a career. It was bloody time to do both!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: the lover series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513478
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	there's no 'i' in 'team', but there's 'tea' and i make... a really good one?

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got the time to post (and actually write) the third story!!!  
> It was based off of [Me! (ft. Brendon Urie)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuXNumBwDOM), which is one of my favorite songs and has my favorite singer, Brendon Urie hahaha  
> This one is my favorite fic so far and I really hope you guys enjoy it just as much as I did while writing it.
> 
> Again: this is unbeta'd and english is not my native language, so pls warn me about any mistakes  
> PS: I wanna say i'm sorry beforehand since I tried using a bit of british slangs, so there must be more mistakes than the ones I found when rereading, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> Have fun. ^^

Getting used to something you always had but could now claim as yours was weird. Mione always gave him small smiles, accompanied by blushes, while walking together or when their hands brushed unconsciously, but never occurred to Ron how easily they would be familiar and used to each other in any way after taking that last leap and becoming an actual couple.

At Hogwarts, after that first snog, Mione would simply drop her whole-body weigh in Ron’s lap and open a book, naturally claiming that place as hers. Or would unintentionally run her fingers through his red locks. If anyone brought Fred’s name up, Mione would almost instantly put his head on her chest and hug him. Their height difference didn’t mean a thing for her. And it was all-natural. Easy-peasy. A piece of cake. Ron couldn’t even pinpoint where they switched from childhood friends to partners. And for that, Ron didn't have the time to even consider if he was worthy of all of it.

When they finally moved in together and officially called it dating, Ron was gobsmacked. He could tell his mates that Hermione was his _girlfriend_ now. He felt chuffed. It was brilliant. They being together like this was splendid. How did he never think about it before?

But other stuff came up. Mione was already in the Ministry’s high ranks and shining like ever. What he was doing to accompany her though?

Maybe, after all those years telling people things that they “needed” to hear, Ron needed to hear some himself. Maybe what he always told people; he could have told himself too. Just maybe, of course.

 **X**

_"Sometimes you live with your head up your arse, mate_ ”

Every time Harry had a problem in his sorta-like-a-relationship with Draco, he would come crying about it to Ron, expecting an “it’s all that ferret’s fault, mate” or something of sorts and Ron would never give him anything similar to it because Ron hated lying. Harry wasn’t one tad discouraged; he would come back after each next banter of theirs and Harry would repeat the same monologue while having a cuppa and some sort of pie obviously made by Ron in a rush.

Each time it happened, Ron told Harry almost the same thing and, with this, made known what almost every one of their pals thought. Harry was a tad selfish when thinking of or even planning the future. Even if said future was not just about him. He would always act like a martyr of some sort and for that would have the right to choose whatever happened. He tended to forget the war was over and so Dumbledore reign of lies.

It was all understandable, but it still was stuff he should deal with. Not just blame the war and let it stick to him. Draco was the one who put up with shite every time, so when he fought with Harry over things, shite would get heavier. It was all a big cock-up.

But what Ron never realized is that he could sometimes act the same way. He would only look at his place as the youngest brother, the not genius or bravest of their trio and act like a victim, letting Mione shoulder all his burdens just because. It was bloody indecent of him.

He also had some needy moments in which Hermione was knackered from her work, which was exhausting with all those old pillocks and wankers wanting to keep their kingdom, so the last thing she needed was her boyfriend acting like a toddler. But Ron would request cuddles and hugs before letting her bloody sleep. Mione never complained though. _What a_ _merciful woman._

And there were a million other things that Ron could now call self-centred attitude. That's why he bloody hated cleaning their flat. When he cooked, he didn’t think about anything because it was therapeutic, he would lose himself into his mixing and shuffling until scrummy things came out of the cooker. There was no time to think and to _reflect_ over stuff. But cooking lead to messing, which would forever lead to cleaning. It could very well lead everything to bloody hell. Yes, Ron was a tad self-absorbed. Everybody was too. Probably. What’s the matter, right? Everyone needed a tad of self-love and esteem.

The _good_ part of cleaning (besides the fact that there were charms for it, so Ron just had to shake his wand and say some words to get it done) was Hermione's proud face when she came home. You could see her mind congratulating itself on finding a proper partner. She would also kiss his cheek, making his face red as his hair, say “ _you’re the best, Ron"_ , also making him feel like the greatest of all mankind, and go to take a bath.

Hermione knew her onions, so if she said Ron was the best, she wouldn’t be lying. She would know what the best looked like.

After this splendid display of affection, Ron remembered what he also said to Harry the last time he came with his panties in a twist.

“Mate, looking at the Brightside,” Ron would say while filling Harry’s cup for the umpteenth time, “if having you head up your arse didn’t make him go away; it must mean you have a pretty brilliant arse to look at.”

And this rule probably fit him too, right? He and Harry were very similar, for good and for worse. Besides, Ron _did_ have a fit bum. Hermione said it herself. And she was a _know-it-all,_ so she would know what a hot arse was.

 **X**

_“You don’t need help; you do self-sabotage just fine”_

Draco was, all in all, a bloody posh git. He did all he could to be forgiven about his war crimes, and he truly deserved being forgiven, but Merlin knows he was an A+ bloody tosser. And, the worst, he was tosser to himself. And a posh.

Which meant he had the dosh and the ways to go after a bloody mindhealer, but he would continually keep his head up in his arse and cock his own life up. Each month, he would come to Ron and Mione’s flat to talk about his career. And to judge their pals' decisions, but mainly to discuss his career.

He wasn’t sure about what to do. He was good at Potions, but no one would want to take him as an apprentice (though he didn’t even try to apply to any bloody Potion’s Master); he was good at health and first aid charms but was afraid of not passing through their exams (he didn’t start studying or reading any bloody manual for it), and the list went on.

Usually, he came by Mione’s days off and together they would happily bend over her hundreds of books (that, fortunately, didn’t get dusted since she was always shuffling with them, so one less job for Ron to be bothered about) and spend the day drinking Ron’s _great_ tea and eating Ron even _better_ biscuits.

Some months, though, the blond ferret would be so anxious he would come twice and in days Mione was busy. So, it was Ron’s serving time. The worst part of it all was that Ron himself didn’t know what he wanted. He was helping George at the shop half period, so he wouldn’t stay home cooking the whole day, and later cleaning, but he and Mione knew he wasn’t happy there. He loved his brother and to be with him for half of his day, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not that he knew where his heart was.

Mione did give him the idea to stay cooking until he came to a decision, but it was too domestic for him. Ron loved cooking but didn’t love staying at home. His introvert and homely days were gone, he wanted to spend his day out, working in something he liked, so he could come back tired from working and not cleaning, and then pass out happy as Larry.

George, Harry, and Luna were also constantly giving him ideas, but they all seemed to expect him to pull blinders. They only had hard as fuck ideas, what the bloody hell. Ron wasn’t a superhuman, all right?

Nonetheless, when Draco and he got together, they would eventually forget about their careers and simply do a good old chinwag.

“Pansy and her new hair are botched.”

“Bloody no, the colour totally matched her face structure.”

And so on.

When they actively engaged in promising discussion, Ron would get tired. The infamous phrase would be thrown out. The cat would get out of the bag etc. Malfoy would be narky and only come back to his senses when Ron cooked him some sweets. His sweet tooth was a bloody gift to the world.

It was knackering. The man would always find something to make the idea some sandwiches short of a picnic. First, it was his past, then his looks, then sexuality and sometimes even his teeth. They would go back to the drawing board without the twat even trying anything.

In one of those meetings, Draco decided to make Ron taste of his own medicine. “So, _Ron_ , what about _you_ giving up your day job in the shop?”

Ron pretended he didn’t listen and offered more tea. He would let this question to be thought about when cleaning the kitchen after Draco’s visit. For some reason, every time his friends showed up, Ron would end up in front of the cooker.

_Bloody hell, I look just like fucking Malfoy, don’t I?_

Being similar to Harry was one thing. A bad thing, but it still more acceptable. They shared bad habits, but also a fit arse. It had its perks. But bloody ferret was stubborn and would be self-sabotaging at each chance he got.

Mione’s ideas for him to open a small restaurant or cafeteria, or even a sweet shop, since he loved making sweets, came to his mind then. With them, George and Luna’s plans for him to open a sweet shop chain were brought along. All the reasons Ron raised to show it was all going to be dog’s dinner also took a lift with his train of thoughts.

He was _indeed_ following in Malfoy’s steps. What a thing to dread. Changes were in the way. Extreme ones.

While _accioing_ some papers and a pen to plan his first steps and choosing who to floo first between George, Luna, or Harry, he also remembered what he always told bloody Malfoy.

“If there’s you involved, it can’t even assemble to be a cock-up. The only thing that might explode is your head from all your bottled anxiety.”

 _Shite, I’m a hell of a good friend. Thumbs up to_ me.

 **X**

That night, Hermione got home later. It happened sometimes; work from her subordinates would come looking like rubbish and she would have to redo it. What a pain it was.

Anyway, the living room’s lights were still on and it made her get suspicious. Ron’s sleep schedule reminded her of her grandparents' routine. 10 o’clock in the night he would be passed out, 6 o’clock in the morning he would be up. It was endearing. Thinking about those small details always made her realize how arse over tit she was for Ronald. But soon her mind went to searching mode again. Curiosity always came first for her.

When checking the situation, her heart did little flips inside her chestagainthough _. I did_ _pick_ _to myself the best of men._

Ronald was passed out in their coffee table, drool threatening to drip from his mouth into sheets of paper. There were food names and some things looking like recipes all around. It was an organized mess and looked like Ron was in a planning process. Mione's curiosity would probably be sated the next morning, but she was already excited for whatever he was doing.

She kissed his hair, _accioed_ a blanket and covered him, “Good night, Ron.”

 **X**

_"You are perfectly screwed. Screwed in the_ _exactly_ _ri_ _ght amount”_

Luna visits were usually the funniest. Also, the craziest and the less common ones, which didn’t mean Ron saw her any less either. Mione always said Luna incorporated magic in her whole persona and thus she personifies magic, which made a lot more sense when Ron went to any bloody place and met Luna. Even at his mum’s house. It was bloody _un_ _nerving_.

Nonetheless, when Luna came by there weren’t patterns to follow and Ron, if Hermione wasn’t present (as she mostly wasn’t), would always be at a bloody loss. Luna didn’t even have a favourite place to stand (like Harry) or to sit (like everybody else). With his newfound domesticity, Ron discovered himself as a bloody brilliant host, and after he started expanding his cooking abilities, his recently discovered aptness to receive guests (random or expected) only grew up. But Luna made him look like fish out of bloody water and her habit of changing topics randomly didn’t help him one tad.

First, she didn’t visit quite often so there wasn’t even enough material to be analyzed, second, and the worst, she didn’t have similar reasons to visit. Once, she was brought by this “unhappy feeling that Ron and Mione’s home would be swarmed over by _dadderblimps_ ”. Then, there was the time she appeared at their doorstep with lots of stodgy food, said they needed some time to relax from all the bloody _housework_ and simply left.

Briefly saying, Luna was unforeseeable. And Ron was the last person made for dealing with unpredictability. He liked bloody chess for a reason, a very solid one which was predictability and strategy.

Thanks to this, they weren’t the closest of friends, but somehow Luna still was the main brainstormer when it came to giving Ron ideas. Her passing by while he was deciding on what to do was helpful. Apparently, she knew it too, but had other plans.

Her first advice was to keep the windows opened a tad more time per day and to buy more plants. Real ones, since, apparently, they were in the breeding season of _weetimorousbeasties_ and, of course, bloody London was the centre of their _action_. Ron wasn’t sure how to even write the bloody things’ name, so he silently congratulated Luna for being able to _actually_ pronounce it.

As they made their way to the kitchen (like there weren’t any other rooms), Luna stopped at each framed photo she and Ginny appeared and recalled the moment. Ron supposed it was her way of being nostalgic, but he was also too afraid to ask why she was doing it or to even confirm she was being it.

“Ron, do you think _blibbering_ _humdingers_ might have messed with your walls' quality? They feel a little wobbly.”

Ron just stopped at his tracks and turned. _What the bloody hell she was talking about now_ , he was thinking, but, after one look at her almost watery eyes and grave expression, even “dense and thick” Ronald could recognize a heartbreak.

“Why don’t you stay in the settee, while I make you a cuppa and some sweets, all right? I’ll get back to you soon.”

And so, Ron’s therapy service (family-friends exclusive) came to show. After the offer, Ron also realized he was turning into his mother faster and faster. Sweets and bloody tea? Ha, he just needed to leave some sandwiches at ready and let his hair get a little longer, he would be Molly Weasley II. He prayed for Hermione to come home earlier too.

Thinking about Luna being heartbroken was terrifying. Could it be Ginny? Or was it her work with all those nutter creatures? Maybe her father wasn’t doing very well? There were many possibilities and probably even more if they knew each other better. Asking directly was the only option. Ron sort of dreaded it.

When tea and biscuits were ready to be served, Ron took them back to the living room and sit across Luna. He was preparing himself to ask, but while he was serving them, Luna opened it all by herself.

“I’ve never wondered about how people outside of our social circle thought of me. Or Gin. Or me with Ginny specifically. It never affected us and how we lived our lives, so I gave more importance to my _heliopaths_ and _aquavirius_. It seems Gin cared enough for the two of us and the way we’re now might not be where she meant us to head.”

So, Ron was _right_. It had to do with Ginny. Great. What he could even say to all of that? _Come on, mind, you deal_ _t_ _with worse cases already. Don’t let me_ _hang in_ _here._ Luna sipped at her cuppa and later talked again. She seemed to be having a hard time talking. She looked down and when she got her head up, there were small tears amassing around her eyes and her lips were starting to tremble. She looked directly at Ron and continued. Breath shaky and an expression mixing happiness and nostalgia. Ron now understood why.

Ginny was having a hard time from the bloody media again, especially from the Daily Prophet, which was still under Skeeter’s cruel hands, but this time she wasn’t the only one to suffer. Gin was the most famous quidditch player of the last three seasons and thus the centre of attention, but her newfound fans weren’t happy for her relationship with a woman, and, as people were saying, even more, cheesed off for said woman being a “lunatic”.

“Loony Lovegood” made a bloody comeback and not all of Ginny’s threats and pleads to leave them alone were helping. Ron didn’t get the full picture the last time he saw his sister but knew about it at some level. He didn’t know it was _t_ _hat_ _bad_ though. People were actually sending letters and bloody Howlers to their flat and to the Quibbler’s office. It was bloody disgusting.

To get everything bloody worse, Ginny withdrawn into herself and barely talked to Luna at all. Luna didn’t know why she would do that during the worst period of all, but Ron knew Gin enough to know it was due to guilt, which didn’t justify anything, but at the very least explained.

“I never felt insecure about who I am to myself and to the world, and this is mostly thanks to Gin and my father. I always heard what people would say about me and the things they would do, hiding my things and calling me crazy, etc, but there were also people who liked me. And these ones were the ones I counted. Gin liked me, loved me even. Now I can’t bloody well find the source of all my self-esteem since she won’t even look me in the eye anymore and I think it would be too cruel of me to be cheeky now just so I could get an answer.”

“I tried asking the _moon frogs_ , but all they had to say was for me to follow the sugar. It probably means you, right? You have three colours of different sugar types just in your face. So here I am.”

Ron wanted to once more end half of the wizard population (the first time it happened was when Draco and Harry publicly assumed each other), but he couldn’t do it, so he chose to stick with the easiest option: making Luna feel better and go talk to Ginny. He first started with a new batch of biscuits and a new round of tea, followed by a very long discourse about insecurity. Ron liked to talk about it, and he felt very sure giving motivational speeches about it too because it was one of his bloody best friends. It walked by his side almost at every hour, but especially when it came to Hermione.

It was going to be _easy-peasy._

Or so he _thought_.

The more the redhead talked about thinking of yourself as perfect and counting each flaw as an inherent part of your perfect self, he realised he was talking bullocks. Luna was too smart to get better with such superficial stuff and Ron himself concluded he never got surer of himself because not even him believed that load of rubbish he was spilling.

“Cancel everything I just said and focus on one simple thing: you might be fucked up in unfixable ways, but the thing is you’re botched just in the right way. Like, if you are indeed screwed, then it’s okay because all these things people may see as rubbish is an actual treasure to other people. People that matter, like mum, Harry, _Gin_. From whom you should pull answers out, by the way.”

They opened their hearts to each other for some more time and Ron brought the shop idea up. Luna got a tad more animated and started asking random questions of place, recipes, and names. Ron didn’t even know what kind of shop he wanted, but Luna was sure it was the less important part.

“When the right time comes, the _snorkacks_ will tell you these unimportant things, you’ll just have to sleep with a tad of salt under your pillow.” Ron had never been so happy to see Luna talking about her weird thingies again.

He also never tried so hard to keep something fresh on his mind. “Screwed just in the right measure” like one of the ingredients of his sweets; it was all planned. His personality was an orange cake and its bittersweet flavour was calculated. And _delicious._

 **X**

_“There’s no_ _bloody_ _redhead tall freckled_ _tosser_ _like_ _you”_

When George or Ginny passed by, it was a tad nostalgic and fun. They had a pattern like most of the others, even if they came together or alone. First, because one of them would forever be on a bloody rush (and it was never going to be George) and would just _literally_ pass by. Second, and probably because the two of them were raised together, they would come up to only bloody eat. When they came together, they would spend even an hour with Ron, the topics were random and poorly noted. Their talk was used as an excuse to be together while eating their favourite food, that is, Ron’s. It was kept as a secret from their mum, but it was the hard and bloody truth. Nevertheless, even if he was used as a food provider, it was still nice to have them around and Ron did love to cook, so all ended well. They were also perfect to test new recipes; it was indeed only gaining for him.

When Ginny came alone, she would spend no later than thirty minutes and then go running for some appointment. She would tell some new thing or being Luna invented this time and what kind of incense she decided to use to attract or to repel it. Their flat was the best smelling of all, and each time Ron visited it was different. From the ceiling to even the furniture, each time the colours would be new. Ron had to admit it, Luna was cracking good when it came to decoration and interior design. Even Mione spilled the beans and complimented it.

All this talk would happen while they shared some cupcakes. Ginny was arse over tits for the American creation. It didn’t matter what flavour Ron put in it, she ate it and asked for more. It was quite the endearing and funny scene; serious and focused Ginevra would fall to crumbles when eating a bloody American dish. If Ron kept up with his plans to open a shop of some sort, Ginny would be perfect to serve as his guinea pigs. As soon as the clock hit half past five though, she would hug Ron and leave.

When George came by alone, it was a whole new story. He always took his time visiting his “baby brother”. As soon as he left the fireplace, he pulled Ron into a tight hug like they haven’t seen each other in ages (even if they just said their byes at the shop where George promised to pass by) and then he would just head to his favourite stool in the kitchen countertop. Then their pattern really started; George started rambling about his invention of the time one second exactly after his bum hit the stool’s wood. It was incredible timing.

Ron would make comments while baking cakes or trifles. George was up to anything Ron offered him, but he knew his preferred desserts and Ron always make sure to have its ingredients ready.

While eating his second piece though, George asked him about his ideas again. Ron commented about them superficially at the shop, due to two bloody basic facts: 1) the shop was chock-a-block and; 2) he didn’t have much of an idea to discuss yet.

He was hoping George would have his nutter plans and Ron would simply put some realistic traits in them later. George did get proud of his “baby brother, for _finally_ choosing something that wouldn’t be a waste of your day job”, but couldn’t do much without “knowing bullocks” about it. Ron _accioed_ the paper sheets, with which he was working since some past weeks, and explained his wishes (that didn’t quite start to take shape since he saw Luna).

From there, and as George's mind traveled _through_ and flirted _with_ the thousands of different possibilities, Ron freaked out. Now it was his _panties_ that were very bloody _twisted_. He was indeed able to feel his bollocks curling themselves up and refusing to ever go back to normal. He felt like cooking something and he got up to do exactly that. George was brilliant, don’t understand him wrong, and surely knew his onions when talking about business and commerce, but Ron didn’t have the nerve to tell him that _he, Ronald Bilius Weasley,_ was sure he couldn’t do it. While beating some eggs, Ron could put his thoughts in a more understandable chain.

Hermione was brilliant, a truly ambulant and complete encyclopedia, and Harry, even with all his flaws, dear Harry was still brave and fearless as shite. They could do anything they were proposed and it was incredible. Ron, on the other hand, needed time, calculation, and strategy. He wasn’t born with any special gifts and was, all in all, a standard wizard. George was an incredible administrator and had a brilliant nose for good investments. Ron didn’t have any of that.

He used cooking as a bloody _therapy_ _technique_ for Merlin's sake, take _that_ , let’s put it like, a _relaxing method_ _,_ to another whole level, like an actual business, was nutter’s talk. Especially if they were speaking of someone like his bloody self. He was skint with money. He only started having actual dosh at the end of each month after Mione started doing his financial control. How does a person like him would even administrate a whole shop?

After putting what was going to be a truffle cake in the cooker, Ron was gagging for other sorts of distraction. All while listening to George’s brainstorm and getting more anxious by the minute. He wasn’t an impulsive man, but his decision to take cooking to another lever was indeed poorly thought over. He needed a hug. Mum’s turkey sandwiches too. Maybe Hermione’s chest cuddles.

Maybe sitting would help? He didn’t know. His mind was all sorts of foggy. He felt like someone who spent the night before getting plastered. His head was aching and a great hungover seemed to be on his way. Hungover from excessive stupidity, he was sure.

“Ron, are you listening at all? Are you all right, brother?”

Ron then realized he completely forgot George was still there and that he didn’t even finish one sweet, Merlin knows if could eat the other two coming right away. He finally sat. _Should I tell or should I_ _postpone?_

Ron knew it was wrong of him to keep a bloody thing like this in the quiet, but he also was very aware that George could misunderstand and bloody conclude it was his fault. Ron didn’t any of that. Nevertheless, he was a bloody awful liar, so his decision didn’t even get to be made since he ended up letting the cat out of the bag unintentionally. George just had to ask two more questions and it all came out. What a bloody mouth.

George was gobsmacked after all. He didn’t seem to understand Ron’s chain of thoughts. He was also looking a little cheesed off. A tad on the narky side too.

And he really got narky. After listening to his fears, George got angry for the endless “bloody boring comparisons” Ron kept making. “I thought you would grow the hell out of it after Hogwarts, I can’t believe you didn’t work it out. Shite, Ron, you better remember what you told me before I release each new product, all right?”

Ron always said that phrase to him because it made proper sense. George was an inventor that was also an A+ tosser. It didn’t matter what he released, people would get angry (for being a victim of it), people would get happy (for making a victim with it), but people would still buy it in any case. He was the only tall freckled redhead tosser who had the ability to make anyone be affected by his stuff.

“It fits you perfectly well too. You might even be one of the seven freckled mostly tall redhead tossers this family gave to the wizarding society, but none of us is the same tosser as the other. You are quite capable of chocking people through other sorts of peculiarities.” Continued George on his monologue about being unique.

It didn’t make Ron the surest about himself but it did put his heart at ease and made him breathe again. From that on, the bloody planning didn't look harmless, but its bite seemed less painful. Until the time George left and Ron put away all the food and did the cleaning, he only cooked two more dishes. It was obvious progress, right?

“And, before I finally leave you to tidy up your mess, let me remind you that it is quite possible that there is another dork like you lost somewhere, but they never will make a proper cuppa like yours. G’ night, Ronnikins. Sleep tight.”

That night, Ron decided to tidy up using his own hands. He even found where were their cleaning gloves hidden. Only success.

Or almost, since he was already passed out from tiredness when Hermione got home.

 **X**

_“Home is where_ _ver_ _I find you_ _r tea_ _, Ronald”_

When Ron decided that he needed to change his attitude, so he wouldn’t follow in Draco’s steps, he didn’t quite expect all of this.

Seeing his soon-to-be a sweet shop being built from the ground was bloody amazing. _Weasley’s_ _Wizard_ _Sweet_ _ea_ _s_ was referred almost like a son. Ron woke up every day feeling the delicious sensation that he was seeing his baby grow into a toddler and later into a kid and so on. It was so bloody satisfying. He was also seeing himself grow up. By Hermione’s side and vice-versa.

She was almost as excited as him, sometimes even cutting sleep hours just to help. If she didn’t feel necessary, she would sometimes even create reasons to participate. Ron has never been so arse over tit for that woman. Harry was also just as happy, but he wasn’t Mione with her crazy sleep routine and endless stock of energy, so his help usually came in the form of encouraging and sending love through Malfoy.

Malfoy was a funny part of the process. He chose to follow the Potion’s path in the end but, for Ron’s unfortunate arse and bullocks, the ferret discovered cooking with magic _actually_ _counted_ as Potion’s performance (since it shared method, finality and sometimes ingredients) and so he could have a valid apprenticeship under Ron’s wing. And that’s how the bloody minted git got to invade Ron’s beloved sanctuary.

Nonetheless, not even having Draco glued to him made anything worse. Cooking still had its therapeutic properties, so whenever Draco took the piss with him, Ron just had to cook to calm down. It was a foolproof plan. Strategy never failed him. And thanks Merlin to that.

But Ron’s insecurity didn’t disappear from day to night, just as his sweets and a tea shop wouldn’t come out of anywhere, and it would sometimes make a comeback. There were days it made more than one. Nonetheless, Hermione would be there for him, letting herself say silly things just to cheer him up or silently showing how Ron was her home too.

The day _Weasley’s_ _Wizard_ _Sweeteas_ would be officially opened _,_ Ron got anxious just from seeing that chock-a-block around his still closed shop. He kept reprising the reasons for it all to turn into rubbish, in some worst possibilities Mione even left him. He was a tad desperate.

“Oh, Ronald”, she would say every bloody time he had that ‘I-might-have-shitted-myself' expression, “I already told you I never liked you by your handsome features or successful future, it was always for the tea. Don't bother with other things, home is wherever your tea finds me.”

After being thoroughly snogged for the umpteenth time, Ron finally gave up and calmed down. “Luna said to find your home you must feed some sugar to the _snabberwitch_ in the morning.”

“Too much work, I think I’ll just stay married to the man who makes the really good tea, you know.”

“It’s funny because we’re not married, all right? Hermione, what are you doing on the ground? Oh my bloody Merlin, are you asking me?”

Hermione was laughing her arse off, there were even tears falling just from the intensity of her bloody laughter. Ron believed there wasn’t any sound more beautiful than it. “Yes, Ronald Bilius Weasley, would you give me the honour to make me tea for the rest of my life? Fed _snabberwitches_ or not?”

It was Ron’s turn to laugh. “Yes, fed _snabberwitches_ or not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming till here and please tell me your thoughts about it!!
> 
> This fic is just an excuse for me to use cook! and dork!Ron, that are my favorite Ron tropes, mixing it all with a bit of his insecurity was really fun too
> 
> Anyway, see ya!


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